Afterlife be kind to you, Frigo Deepocke.
Posted: Mon May 15, 2017 7:27 pm
Upon a windy night, last he will ever see, and last words he’ll ever speak;
“You have to look out, yea? Drogo will be coming for you. It’s about money mate, and it won’t be only him.” *moments of silence pass, a glint in his eye* “May I advise a different course of action? Not here. We’ll meet towards south and speak there.”
A long journey which seemed to drag on into eternity for Bran. The words weren’t right. He knew Frigo was out to get him. He knew he was either walking to his death or walking south to kill an assassin. Why did it seem so hard though? Did he… have a weak spot for that sociopathic murderer? Surely not, but… it seemed like a very long walk. At the destination, they’ve met, Frigo fully warded, but so was Bran. The assassins shows his face before striking:
“Hello Bran. I’m sorry but I will have to take you now.” *he cracked a grin.*
-“Are you sure, Frigo?” *he replied with a heavy sigh* “Are you sure you wish to do this? We do not have to.”
“But we do, Bran, we really do.”
-“Very well, Frigo. Have at it.”
*A salvo of arcane might flew from the Halfling, a hail of unbroken incantations, bolt after bolt battering against the armor, shield near thrown to the side, the very air blown aside as before a coming storm.
A pacification attempt from the defendant, an incapacitation, still hopeful, but Halfling stands firm. Another salvo, another storm.
Drowning. Drowning him to the very brink of death. Spell cast, invoked with all the might he could muster, yet… The Halfling stood. Another storm of arcane missiles unleashed from him.
…it took a combined might which would lay waste to a small army to lay low the mighty Frigo Deepocke, his body all but gnawed to the bone by the acid rains, lightning and fire.
He did not fight with honour, but he fought with unparalleled ferocity.*
His body is brought north, by the coast of the Swords, a small pyre, and three figures, speaking final words of farewell, as the flames turn body and bone to ash, fueled by arcane might, leaving nothing but dust. He was not the greatest among hin, nor was he the worst. He was one of the fiercest.
“…you should have taken the coin and left a wealthy man, instead you chose to fight. May the afterlife see you repaid for all you’ve done in full, you greedy bastard.” *Words were spoken with a smirk, concealing regret and sadness at this betrayal.*
“You have to look out, yea? Drogo will be coming for you. It’s about money mate, and it won’t be only him.” *moments of silence pass, a glint in his eye* “May I advise a different course of action? Not here. We’ll meet towards south and speak there.”
A long journey which seemed to drag on into eternity for Bran. The words weren’t right. He knew Frigo was out to get him. He knew he was either walking to his death or walking south to kill an assassin. Why did it seem so hard though? Did he… have a weak spot for that sociopathic murderer? Surely not, but… it seemed like a very long walk. At the destination, they’ve met, Frigo fully warded, but so was Bran. The assassins shows his face before striking:
“Hello Bran. I’m sorry but I will have to take you now.” *he cracked a grin.*
-“Are you sure, Frigo?” *he replied with a heavy sigh* “Are you sure you wish to do this? We do not have to.”
“But we do, Bran, we really do.”
-“Very well, Frigo. Have at it.”
*A salvo of arcane might flew from the Halfling, a hail of unbroken incantations, bolt after bolt battering against the armor, shield near thrown to the side, the very air blown aside as before a coming storm.
A pacification attempt from the defendant, an incapacitation, still hopeful, but Halfling stands firm. Another salvo, another storm.
Drowning. Drowning him to the very brink of death. Spell cast, invoked with all the might he could muster, yet… The Halfling stood. Another storm of arcane missiles unleashed from him.
…it took a combined might which would lay waste to a small army to lay low the mighty Frigo Deepocke, his body all but gnawed to the bone by the acid rains, lightning and fire.
He did not fight with honour, but he fought with unparalleled ferocity.*
His body is brought north, by the coast of the Swords, a small pyre, and three figures, speaking final words of farewell, as the flames turn body and bone to ash, fueled by arcane might, leaving nothing but dust. He was not the greatest among hin, nor was he the worst. He was one of the fiercest.
“…you should have taken the coin and left a wealthy man, instead you chose to fight. May the afterlife see you repaid for all you’ve done in full, you greedy bastard.” *Words were spoken with a smirk, concealing regret and sadness at this betrayal.*